


Post Exodus

by violue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Coda, M/M, Pre-Relationship, episode tag: s13e22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: Coda for 13x22.





	Post Exodus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to finish my fic for the Destiel Reverse Bang so naturally I wrote this instead.
> 
> Much thanks to [Jay-Dizzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialiste) for giving this a quick read through!

It takes Dean a while to find Castiel. He wanders through the bunker, the air around him growing more and more quiet as he gets further from the celebrating hunters behind him. He has to be here somewhere, Dean would have noticed him leaving. He checks bathrooms, the garage, even the dungeon, but doesn’t find Castiel until he happens to walk past his own room and hear the sound of turning pages. He opens his door, surprised to see Castiel sitting on his bed, an old, weathered notebook in his lap, and one of Sam’s fancy fountain pens in his hand.

“If you’re gonna sneak into my room, at least do something interesting like go through my porn collection,” Dean says, because sometimes jokes about porn are all he has.

“I’m journaling,” Castiel says blandly.

“I didn’t know you… journaled.”

“Sam suggested it, after my most recent death,” Castiel says, and how fucked up is that? His _most recent_ death. “He thought it might help me sort through some lingering issues I was having, and I suppose the habit stayed with me.”

“You and Sam talk about that stuff?”

Castiel shrugs, pen still working quickly. “He asked.”

Dean walks closer, and when Castiel doesn’t try to hide the journal, he peeks. “Is that— are you writing in Sanskrit?”

“I defy you to find me a script more beautiful on paper than Devanagari.”

“Right. Well, what are you writing about?”

“My thoughts and feelings. Today was a hard-won victory.”

“I’m sorry about Gabriel, Cas, I know you guys are… brothers.”

“All the angels are my brothers.”

“Yeah, but there are brothers, and then there are brothers that are friends. It seemed like you and Gabe were becoming friends.”

“Perhaps. But that’s not what I’m writing about.”

Dean sits on the edge of his bed. “So, what are your thoughts and feelings about?”

“Back at Michael’s compound, in the scuffle, I met… me.”

Dean doesn’t get it at first, but when he does, his eyes go wide. “You mean… like an apocalypse version of you?”

Castiel finally looks up at Dean. His eyes are almost, _almost_ watering. “Yes.”

Dean swallows against the hard lump suddenly in his throat. “Well, what were you… what was _he_ like?”

“Twisted. Broken. He wore the same body as me, but seemed to be blind in one eye and spoke with an accent even I couldn’t identify.”

“Okay, not what I was expecting,” Dean mumbles.

“He was instantly disgusted with me, the side I choose to fight on. He told me I was no better than him, that we were the same. A fairly short conversation, actually. After that, I killed him.”

Dean’s heart lurches at the thought of another Castiel out there, lying dead on the ground. “Jesus _Christ,_ Cas.”

“He was an enemy.”

“But he was _you_.”

“He was me in other circumstances. He’d never met you, nor Sam, nor Mary, Jack, Kelly… those of you who made me who I am today.”

Dean knew the other world was one where he and Sam had never been born… he hadn’t thought about what that would mean for Castiel. He hadn’t really thought there’d be a Castiel there at all, a copy of something unique to Dean’s life.

“So—” Dean’s voice comes out cracked; he clears his throat. “So, is that what you’re writing down? That you killed him?”

“I suppose at its core this entry is about how lucky I am. Things have been hard for me since we met. I’ve died… repeatedly. Fallen. I’ve doubted, sinned, made the wrong choice so many times...”

“The moment you laid a hand on me in Hell, you were lost,” Dean mutters. He doesn’t even remember the name of the angry blonde angel who said it, but the words have never left him.

“I’ve always known that Hester was wrong. That other version of myself proves it.”

Castiel locks eyes with Dean in that way he always does, that way that makes Dean feel helpless, trapped, like a moth drawn to a flame. No, not a moth. A dumb, stumbling bug headed right for a bug zapper.

“I am lucky, Dean. Staring into the cold, shattered eyes of my other self, I know for certain that the day my grace touched your soul was the day I was saved.”

Dean feels that terrifying, queasy elation he feels whenever Castiel says things like that to him. “I don’t know about all that, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, small but breathtaking. “I do. More now than ever before.” He sets his journal on Dean’s bed and gets to his feet so he can stand in front of Dean. “Thank you, Dean, for saving me,” he says, leaning down. He kisses Dean’s forehead, then his left cheek, and before he can kiss Dean’s right cheek, Dean turns his head until their lips meet.

Castiel lets out a soft, stunned inhalation, but he doesn’t pull away. Tentatively, he brings their lips together again. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Dean closes his eyes, because his heart is threatening to break free from his ribcage and staring into Castiel’s eyes isn’t helping. “Any time, Cas.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe I wrote something canon-based? With no porn? I too, am shocked.


End file.
